Chicken Salad!

So during my 3-month hiatus from posting on my blog I actually spent some time lurking on all of yours. I came to the realization that I might try my hand at an actual Blog entry, since up until now all of my entries have been either Btravellogs or Bkidsscrapbooks instead of actual musings that are going on in my head.
So in an effort to jump into the monumental task I have ahead of me in updating my blog, I'm going to explain exactly what's on my mind right this minute.

I am eating the most heavenly chicken salad. Once I got the idea in my head to dig up this recipe from my college shower-hosting days, it took me a few days to assemble all the necessary ingredients. The task involved a trip to Aldi as well as to Target where I picked up the mayonnaise that was not available at Aldi. Why didn't I have mayonnaise on hand, you may wonder. I'm pretty sure the reason is because whenever my wonderful, helpful husband cleans out the fridge, he throws the mayonnaise away. Period. Doesn't matter if the expiration date has passed or not. Don't get me wrong...I can appreciate that we all have our #1 despised foods that make us cringe, and I am willing to allow him to lend that distinction to mayonnaise. It just makes for an extra errand for me whenever the urge hits to make a tuna sandwich (not very often) or chicken salad (almost never).

So a few minutes ago, as my chicken salad was nearing completion, I was getting ready to pour the dressing on and the thought actually crossed through my mind..."my chicken salad is almost done....I can't wait." Almost audibly. Scary? What's more, after I dished it up, I took it in to Weston to show him my culinary creation, even though I knew he would be thoroughly disgusted by the sight of it. I instructed him to feign happiness in my behalf. He did a fine job.

Now I'm eating my salad, updating my blog, and listening to the violin concerto station on Pandora Radio. In the immortal words of Brian Regan, "Can life get better? I submit that it cannot!"

What's that? You want the recipe? OK. Here it is:

Summer Chicken Salad

2 cups chopped, cooked chicken
1 cup sliced celery
1/2 cup snipped dried apricots or raisins (I just use a can of mandarin oranges)
1/3 cup slivered almonds, toasted (not necessary but I'm sure would be yummy if I were gourmet enough to #1 know where to find them in the store and #2 buy them)
1/2 cup mayonnaise or miracle whip
2 Tbsp. frozen orange juice concentrate, thawed
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/4 tsp ground black pepper
1/4 tsp ground ginger

Mix everything together (best to do the dressing items in a separate bowl first and then spoon over salad items). Chill well. Enjoy!

My First Marathon

I ran my first Marathon on Saturday. OK….It wasn’t actually me doing the running. It was my husband, Stone. But by the time it was over I definitely felt like I had accomplished a gargantuan athletic feat. Sit back and I’ll tell you all about it.

PREPARATION
Stone decided he wanted to run the Richmond Marathon (his first) about 1 year ago. After his first attempts to train he found himself injured so he had to put his training on hold for a few months. When spring came around he picked up right where he had left off, following a strictly regimented training program of several short runs during the week and one long run each weekend. Let me tell you this was an impressive sight. To watch my husband set such a lofty goal and then decide each day that he would work hard to accomplish it made me one proud woman.
My only two claims to the preparation side of things were the cleaning of the smelly, sweaty running clothes in the bathroom on a regular basis and the making of our team spirit shirts.

The Big Day

We checked out of our hotel pretty early in the morning and drove to the Omni Richmond Hotel where we dropped Stone off to retrieve his packet and go to the starting line. With only about 30 minutes to go before the gun went off, I had to quickly find a place to park. Naturally the roads surrounding the starting line were blocked off so the nearest (and quickest) (and free-est) parking place I could find turned out to be approximately 7 blocks away. We unloaded, put coats on, opened the trunk, and guess what? No stroller. I forgot to pack the stroller. A mere luxury, right? What did the pioneers do without strollers? Probably something similar to what I did for the entire rest of the day….carry my 30 lb baby on my hip….which doesn’t sound too bad until you realize you are going to be walking 7 blocks to your first of 5 destinations and any time the kid tries to reach for something you will practically drop him.
We made it to the starting line just barely in time to hear the gunshot. We actually got some pretty good seats right on the curb (which would turn out to be a favorite at all of our spectator locations.)

We watched the runners go by for at least 5 minutes (all the while I was thinking I didn’t have a prayer at spotting Stone amidst the throng of runners) before we finally saw him. I was quite happy with the starting-line picture I got.

Mile 13

I had printed a list of directions to all the spectator locations (aka “Party Zones”) along the route. However, by the time we got back to the van (7 blocks w/Nogster on the hip again) and I had a chance to serve the boys breakfast and clean up, I was worried that stopping at Mile 7 might be a wasted effort because we would have missed Stone. So we drove past mile 7 and stopped at mile 13. This time I parked a little closer (only 2 blocks!) We quickly changed into our team spirit shirts, which were covered up by 2 layers of coats so no one could see them anyway, and walked to the course. Stone and I had been worried that some of his newer injuries (caused by new running shoes) would flare up and that he might not be able to finish the marathon, but I was relieved to see that he was still going strong at mile 13.

Mile 20

Long about mile 20 I ‘hit the wall’ as they say. The course took us to the most industrial part of town. We parked 5 blocks away. The Blond Guy tripped and fell flat on his face twice on the way to the course. The Nog was on my hip and getting heavier by the minute. We made it to the party and found a restroom (thank goodness we didn’t have any accidents today!). We passed the Sun Trust table on our way out and I picked up one clapper and one pinwheel. I thought a variety of gimmicks would be nice to keep the boys occupied. With The Blond Guy already screaming from the loud music blasting in his ear and the fact that I wouldn’t pick him up, I dragged both the boys as far away from the band as I could and got them settled onto the curb. I presented the boys with the Sun Trust gadgets and The Blond Guy was appalled. Gee, mom, what were you thinking? Isn’t it obvious that we BOTH need to have our own COOL toy? Well, at that point I was willing to do just about anything to stop them from screaming. So I dragged them both BACK to the suntrust table past the blaring rock band, and exchanged the pinwheel for another clapper. Then back to the curb where they actually sat for a good 10 minutes.

I also had an embarrassing mile 20 moment. The gentleman standing beside me at the curb was a very enthusiastic cheerer-on of runners. After a while I noticed that he was calling many of them by name. Not thinking much of it, I asked, “How do you know so many people here?”
He paused, looked at me for a moment, and responded, “Their names are written on their shirts.” Oh. I guess that made a lot more sense than the idea that he had personally coached hundreds of runners for the marathon. I had seen one or two runners with their names on but I guess I didn’t connect the two until it was too late and the question was already out of my mouth. I explained to him that this was my first marathon (and my husband’s) so I’m not really sure how they go. He laughed and said, “For a minute there I thought you were just kidding me.”
Um.....

We watched the runners for quite a while and I couldn’t help but feel my heart swell at the thought of what these people were doing. Standing at mile 20, thinking of how far they’ve come, how much pain they are in, how long they’ve been running, and how close they are to achieving their goal, I almost started to get a little teary-eyed.

After a long wait, Stone finally showed up. He stopped and took a few pictures with us.




After the 5-block drag back to the car I caught a glimpse of myself in the car window. This is what I looked like after mile 20.

The Finish Line

By the time we got to the finish line the boys had absolutely no interest in staying put, so I had to watch most of the action from a distance. I watched the runners pressing forward and sprinting for the final stretch and listened to the announcer as he called their names. Things got pretty intense as the clock approached the 4-hour mark and the announcer was congratulating those who crossed before it passed. Again I had to choke back the tears, thinking of what a huge accomplishment this was for the runners, and what a sweet moment of victory they were all experiencing.

After a while I put Nogster on my shoulders so we could stand right at the fence and watch.
No sooner had I approached the gate when I saw an older gentleman (not more than 20 yards from the finish), stop dead in his tracks and try desperately to work out the cramps in his legs. Everyone around us clamored to encourage him onward and I joined in. It was such a heartrending sight to know how close he was to the finish and that his legs were ready to give out. Finally he worked through it and was able to finish.

Stone immediately followed, sprinting down the lane. It was such a touching moment to see my husband about to cross the finish line after such an ordeal. I cheered and screamed. I was so proud of him. Without the boys in tow I would have been able to snap a picture or maybe even some footage. But alas, it wasn’t meant to be. We ran to meet him at the finish line as fast as we could but it was still several minutes before we were able to find him. Here he is…the proud finisher of a 4:07:44marathon.

The Aftermath

We followed Stone around for a bit while he harvested the free calories that were available and tried to stop shivering.

By this time my arm had started to cramp up from carrying The Nog all day and he wasn’t all that interested in being carried, anyway. Finally we worked our way back to the car and dropped Stone off at the YMCA for his shower. Thanks again to our vehicular DVD player, the wait wasn’t bad at all. After the shower we enjoyed a nice lunch at Qdoba. Here’s The Nogster showing off his “My Dad Rocks” shirt.

Here’s The Blond Guy trying to remember the words, “Root Beer.”

Here’s what the back of our shirts look like.

Here we are back at home wearing all of our marathon shirts. If you’re still reading this I owe you a candy bar.

It was quite the momentous day. Next time I’m bringing a stroller.